VAP - Chapter 171
Chapter 171: The Ruler in the Endless Deep Darkness (4)
Yue Du ultimately decided against sharing a bed with her teammate.
The System’s teeth-grinding was a secondary concern; the main reason was that Yue Du had thought of a crucial question.
“What does the ‘abnormal state’ entail?”
Gao Yin ticked them off on her fingers. “Breaking out in a cold sweat and going rigid, violent convulsions and thrashing, incoherent muttering, loud screaming, trying to strangle anyone nearby…” She suddenly stopped, as if realizing something.
Yue Du asked, “Still want to room together?”
“We can share a room, but we don’t have to share a bed,” Gao Yin said in a low voice. “Sorry, my previous teammate could always wake me up before I started strangling her. I’d forgotten about that.”
Yue Du didn’t ask what had happened to her previous teammate.
The room had only one double bed. The only other place to sleep was the long sofa next to the desk.
Gao Yin, being over 1.8 meters tall, couldn’t possibly stretch out on the sofa. So, Yue Du asked a steward for a blanket and settled down on the sofa herself.
Gao Yin felt a pang of guilt occupying the large bed by herself. “I’ll find a crew member tomorrow and ask to switch to a room with two single beds.”
Yue Du thought the sofa was actually quite comfortable, but after a moment, she agreed. “Sounds good.” It would also be a chance to strike up a conversation with the regular crew and ask about the Pilgrim’s previous voyages.
Seeing that it was getting late, Gao Yin turned off the lights, and they both fell silent.
The cruise ship sailed smoothly, its movement imperceptible. The room was well soundproofed; with the balcony door shut, the clamor from the deck was almost entirely blocked out.
Yue Du lay quietly on her back, gazing at the ceiling in the darkness.
So much had happened in one day. Being inexplicably dragged into a game, the System that had appeared in her mind, the so-called deities of the Deep Darkness Pantheon—it was all enough to shatter an ordinary person’s worldview, yet she had accepted it all with remarkable calm.
In fact, the moment her emotions had fluctuated the most was her chance encounter with Einser Naiyin in the elevator—and that was just her scaring herself.
Hopefully, everything would go smoothly tomorrow.
Drowsiness washed over her like a thick black fog, gently but irresistibly pressing down on her eyelids and blurring her consciousness.
She closed her eyes and sank into a deep sleep.
In a blurry, strangely colored dream, Yue Du found herself standing alone on the deck. The weather seemed clear, with the cries of seabirds in the distance and the ceaseless sound of the waves.
She didn’t understand why she was there. Raising her head in confusion, she saw the sky suddenly turn overcast as dark clouds gathered rapidly, blotting out the bright sun. But it didn’t stop there.
The sky grew darker and darker, becoming as dark as night, then far surpassing it. The sounds of the waves and the birds had ceased at some point, leaving the air heavy and deathly still.
In the suffocating blackness, Yue Du “saw” several black, vine-like objects hanging down from the sky, each as thick as her waist. Call them tentacles, ropes, whatever—they were a black deeper than the surrounding night, a shade of pure void that made them stand out clearly against the darkness.
They extended slowly toward Yue Du. When the most eager one was less than ten meters away, she could almost smell a strange, cold fragrance—a scent that was unsettling, chilling, and made her instinctively want to flee.
It was the scent of an evil and terrifying deity.
She was frozen in place.
But the tentacles advanced no further. At a certain moment, the dream shattered.
Yue Du opened her eyes again, the remnants of confusion and terror still in their depths.
But she wasn’t looking at the cabin ceiling she had been staring at before bed. Instead, Yue Du found herself standing in a vast expanse of white mist.
She looked around. There was nothing but white mist. She looked down at herself and saw she was wearing only a loose white robe, her bare feet resting on some unseen surface beneath the fog.
The surface under her feet was smooth, cold, and hard, like the tiles at home.
The terror and suffocation from the dream still lingered in her mind. Yue Du couldn’t tell if this was another dream or if she had been pulled into some other bizarre place.
“Neither,” came the System’s amused voice. “This place belongs to you.”
Yue Du spun around. There was no one behind her. “Ah Jiu?”
“Down here.”
This time, Yue Du heard it clearly. The voice came from below. She looked down and, through the swirling white mist, spotted the tip of a soft, silver-gray, long-furred tail.
Yue Du was speechless.
A moment later, a long-haired cat with silver-gray fur and deep black, cat-like pupils was scooped out of the mist.
Yue Du wasn’t very practiced at holding cats. After all, the only one at home was a big lump who wasn’t the least bit affectionate with her, preferring to snuggle only in Yue Hao’s arms.
The System cat, however, didn’t mind her inexperience. It affectionately licked her wrist, its slightly barbed tongue making her itch.
Honestly, hearing the System’s voice come from such a soft, fluffy, petite, long-haired cat was a bit jarring, but there was no denying its cuteness.
Yue Du’s already crumbling vigilance loosened even further.
Ah Jiu explained that while asleep, Yue Du had unconsciously brushed against the Spirituality of the Deep Darkness Ruler, passively triggering a dream dominated by it. However, Ah Jiu had hijacked the dream midway through.
Having such a dream wasn’t strange. Gao Yin had mentioned that dreams were an opportunity to sense hidden information within an instance.
Yue Du asked again, “What did you mean when you said this place belongs to me?”
Ah Jiu twitched its pointed ears. “This is your mental space.”
Mental space. It sounded like some kind of inner world, but there was nothing here but white mist.
Half-believing, Yue Du tentatively took two steps forward. Miraculously, the white mist parted where she walked, revealing the marble tiles it had concealed.
So, holding the cat, Yue Du walked through every part of the space she could reach. A concrete scene gradually emerged from the mist, its furnishings familiar. It was her home.
But the area seemed much larger than her actual home, and the space overhead remained shrouded in mist. One thing was certain: her house definitely didn’t have ceilings this high.
Regardless, the familiar scene helped her relax. Yue Du sat on the sofa and subconsciously toyed with the System-cat’s ears.
The System had told her she could ask anything, so Yue Du didn’t stand on ceremony. “Are there really gods in this world?”
“By human definition, yes. At least, in this greater world.”
Before Yue Du could ask, Ah Jiu thoughtfully explained, “A greater world is a collection of many small worlds. Players, for instance, come from different small worlds. The game we’re in is also a small world, one that has been sectioned off to serve as the game’s setting.”
No wonder all the players had heard of the Deep Darkness Pantheon—they all belonged to the same greater world. Yue Du was certain her own world had no such myths, which meant she wasn’t originally from this greater world of evil gods, was she?
So why would an innocent bystander from a peaceful, stable, materialistic world be dragged into this game?
Ah Jiu said, “Well, it was a curious accident.”
Yue Du was silent.
She’d have to be a ghost to believe that.
But then she remembered this world had evil gods related to the undead, so there probably were ghosts. She swallowed her retort.
Next, Yue Du asked a few more questions about the Deep Darkness Ruler. According to the instance information, this deity was the final boss—the kind that caused a team wipe just by appearing.
The System’s answers sounded like they were from a prepared file.
The evil gods themselves are immortal and indestructible, unique, primordial beings of the universe. The Deep Darkness Ruler is the most special among them. It is the executor of collapse and annihilation. In the infinite cycles of the universe, It is the only deity capable of bringing about the end of days.
Destruction comes without pattern or warning, seemingly dependent entirely on the deity’s mood, unswayed by the will of any living being. In theory, it is unstoppable.
Most importantly, the Deep Darkness Ruler can cause the collapse of other deities. While the other evil gods always manage to reform themselves along with the annihilated universe, creating new bodies and minds, they are powerless to stop the destruction itself.
Yue Du was awestruck.
She knew of many world-ending deities from various mythologies, but none were so capricious and unrestrained. The most terrifying part was that this myth was real, and the fate of the universe truly rested on the mood of a single being. The world was doomed.
But all that was too far removed from the concerns of an ordinary player. Yue Du was more interested in the Ruler’s sacrificial ritual and Its kin.
Seven flawless souls were the prerequisite for the sacrificial ritual. The standard for “flawless” was so specific that the cultists of the Deep Darkness had to create a spell to judge a soul’s purity, which they would chant whenever they encountered a potential target.
Killing a flawless one required a specific artifact: a sharp blade carved from black jade, which the cultists called the “Blade of Imureta.” Only this blade could extract the soul of the deceased. If the soul of an unqualified person was mixed in, all their efforts would be for naught.
There was one more crucial point.
When flawless souls were extracted in succession, the nearby kin of the Deep Darkness would be summoned. They would gather at the site of the impending sacrifice, awaiting the gaze of the god they worshipped.
The cruise ship was sailing on the ocean, and the kin of the Deep Darkness dwelling in the endless depths were the Moroses, creatures resembling black-purple jellyfish. They were enormous, with numerous transparent eyes on their bells and several long, narrow, spike-covered tentacles trailing behind them.
These creatures had no intention of harming humans, but they were a problem in themselves—the Moroses were highly venomous.
Yue Du pictured these things slithering and crawling all over the decks and through the cabins, and a shiver ran down her spine.
Fortunately, the kin of the Deep Darkness weren’t as invincible as the god they worshipped; they could be harmed by physical means and driven away with spells.
Speaking of spells, Yue Du couldn’t help but ask, “Players can use spells too, right?”
“Yes, but it’s risky.”
“Such as?”
“Here, all spells draw their power from the deities. It’s not uncommon for them to fail or even backfire, unless you’re one of the god-favored, truly devout believers.” Like you.
The System-cat’s soft tail coiled loosely around Yue Du’s arm, swaying gently.
Yue Du thought about this seriously and grew worried.
“I hope there aren’t any believers like that on this cruise ship,” she murmured. “Otherwise, this will truly be hell mode.”
Early morning, the second day on the cruise ship.
Yue Du was woken on time by her alarm. She got up, washed her face, and changed her clothes in the bathroom. When she came out, Gao Yin was already awake, leaning against the balcony railing and gazing out at the distant sea.
“Sleep well?” Gao Yin asked, as was their custom.
In the game, “Sleep well?” was equivalent to “Did you dream about anything useful last night?” It was a standard morning greeting.
Yue Du decided to be honest. “I slept okay. I did have a dream, though.”
Gao Yin immediately looked at her, surprise in her eyes. Yue Du briefly recounted the dream of day turning to night, of terrifying tentacles descending from the sky. After a moment’s thought, she added a description of the Moroses, the kin of the Deep Darkness, saying she’d seen the jellyfish-like creatures crawling all over the deck.
Gao Yin frowned. “How do you feel now? Any mental fatigue, hyperactivity, or other strange symptoms?”
“Not at the moment,” Yue Du replied.
“Then I can’t tell if that was a spiritual vision or just a dream. But since you saw the Moroses, it must be related to Spirituality.” Gao Yin studied Yue Du for a moment, muttering to herself, “That shouldn’t be possible. You’re definitely a player with high Rationality, so how could you…”
Gao Yin’s question went unanswered. Not one to dwell on it, she turned her attention back to the dream itself. Regardless of the cause, the Moroses were a threat to be taken seriously.
As for the tentacles descending from the sky, she paid them little mind, dismissing it as Yue Du’s anxieties manifesting in her sleep.
After all, the description made it clear that was no ordinary kin. If Yue Du had truly encountered a mystical being of that magnitude in a dream, she would surely be showing signs of mental instability by now, not standing here talking so calmly.
The two of them took the elevator down to meet the other players.
At 8:00 a.m., the tour guide arrived punctually.
She smiled and announced, “Today, I will lead you on a tour to experience the charms of the Pilgrim, this little city on the sea. Aren’t you excited?”
The players replied without enthusiasm, “Yes…”
Yue Du thought, No one is excited, thank you very much.
The moment she had the thought, she heard the System chuckle. Yue Du was instantly on guard. “Can you hear my thoughts?”
“Of course not,” Ah Jiu said, unable to suppress another low laugh. “Unless you get so worked up that you practically shout it in your mind.”
Yue Du was speechless.
Fine, now I know just how badly I wanted to complain, she thought.
While conversing with the System, Yue Du kept pace with the tour guide, taking the elevator with her teammates up to the top deck.
The players’ first stop was the sports and leisure area, which included a running track around the deck’s edge, a golf course, a basketball court, a swimming pool, and various other small exercise facilities.
At this hour, most people who exercised in the morning were already finished, while those who didn’t were either enjoying themselves elsewhere or still in bed.
Facing the nearly empty sports facilities, the tour guide, her smile fixed, launched into a passionate introduction. Her enthusiasm and pride were more befitting of the Pilgrim’s own tour guide than a leader of a travel group.
When she finally finished, the players breathed a sigh of relief. Just as they were about to leave, the guide added, “Alright, everyone is free to enjoy the facilities on this deck. Let a good workout be the wonderful start to your day! We’ll meet back here in one hour.”
She sounds just like a school sports day announcer, Yue Du thought. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, why did they have to waste an hour in a place with hardly anyone around?
But there was nothing to be done. She was an NPC, after all, with a smile that seemed hard-coded. There was no reasoning with her.
The players had no choice but to wander the sports and leisure area in their assigned groups, chatting with the few scattered tourists and staff or searching for clues like strange symbols, hoping for some kind of spiritual vision.
Naturally, they found nothing.
Gao Yin was particularly proactive when it came to sensing clues. She roamed the already sparse area, checking every nook and cranny.
While bending down to inspect a ping-pong table, she even found a crooked cross symbol, though it quickly turned out to be a child’s doodle.
An hour later, the players, having found nothing, reassembled before the guide.
The guide asked, “Did everyone have fun? I’m sure you all feel invigorated from the exercise.”
Someone muttered, “Oh, so invigorating. Heh.”
The guide ignored the comment, continuing with the tour as if following a script.
The tour proceeded downwards from the top deck. The second stop was the children’s playroom on the thirteenth floor.
A group of children bounced and played, occasionally running up to a piece of equipment to bang on it. The playroom offered a childcare service, and several staff members in cartoon mascot costumes entertained the children while watching over them.
The adult players felt more than a little awkward standing there. Only Xiao Pang craned his neck, sighing wistfully. “What a shame. If I were five years younger, I could be in there having a blast.”
Just like in the sports area, the players were given an hour of free time. This place seemed more promising, as everyone knew that “pure and flawless” was often associated with children.
Gao Yin wasn’t skilled at talking to people. She tried to strike up a conversation with a little girl playing Whac-A-Mole alone, but only managed to scare her into running away. The girl’s parents immediately shot her a suspicious glare.
Gao Yin stood frozen for a long moment before hesitantly taking a single step toward a little boy on the other side.
Yue Du couldn’t bear to watch. “Sister Yin, why don’t you look for clues?” she whispered. “I’ll give this a try.”
Gao Yin readily agreed.
Yue Du approached the parents sitting at the edge of the play area and sat down beside an elderly Chinese couple with graying hair. She struck up a conversation with a smile, and in less than five minutes, they were chatting as comfortably as old neighbors.
Five minutes later, Gao Yin saw the parents of the girl from the ball pit call her over. Yue Du quickly struck up a conversation with the little girl, who shyly showed Yue Du a prize she had won in a group scavenger hunt.
Gao Yin silently walked away.
As the hour drew to a close, Yue Du said goodbye to the five or six children who had gathered around her, giving each a few pieces of candy.
Seeing this, Ah Jiu remarked faintly, “You like children that much?”
“They’re alright,” Yue Du replied.
“You gave them candy. That little girl last night didn’t get any.”
The little girl from last night was, of course, Einser Naiyin’s sister—the one who had clung to Yue Du’s leg, wailing that she wanted to go home with her. She was certainly a beautiful child.
Finding the System’s tone amusing, Yue Du deliberately replied, “Only good, well-behaved little cuties get candy. Troublesome brats can forget about it.”
Ah Jiu fell silent.
Then it said, “You’re right, my dear.”
The System fell silent. Yue Du shrugged and went to rejoin her teammate.
Gao Yin still hadn’t found any clues, which made her anxious, yet also a little relieved. Finding a clue meant risking her Rationality, and delaying her descent into madness wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“A little girl told me that yesterday afternoon, she ran into a strange man who mumbled some gibberish at her, patted her on the shoulder, and then left,” Yue Du whispered to Gao Yin. “He was very short, wore a black hoodie and a wide-brimmed hat, and had blue eyes. She couldn’t remember anything else.”
Gao Yin’s immediate thought was, “A spell.”
Yue Du feigned ignorance. “What?”
Gao Yin explained, then mused, “Based on the instance description, that spell was either to identify her soul or to mark her as prey. If it’s the latter, that girl is in grave danger.”
“I got her mother’s contact information,” Yue Du said, holding up her phone. “We can find her again after the guided tour ends.”
After the playroom, the group spent an hour each at the theater and the library before being led to a Western-style restaurant on the same floor as the library for lunch.
This time, the players didn’t all sit at one large table. They sat separately by group, close enough to see each other but too far to overhear the other teams’ conversations.
At the four-person table, Bi Yan poked at her steak and complained, “I’d just started talking to that waiter when our time was up. This NPC is so…”
“That’s enough. Just eat your steak,” Kong Wenbin said.
He then turned to Xiao Pang. “Xiao Pang,” he said gently, “did you notice anything this morning?”
Xiao Pang hesitated. “N-nothing.”
“Don’t be so reserved. If you notice anything or get a strange feeling, just tell us. It could be a clue, right?”
“Alright,” Xiao Pang said, scratching his head. “Actually, back at the theater, I felt something… weird. Uncomfortable. But maybe I was just scaring myself, haha.”
The veteran players exchanged a knowing glance. Kong Wenbin nodded. “Good. We’ll go back and check it out during free time.”
Speaking of free time, the NPC guide’s itinerary was certainly restrictive. Some players didn’t mind and simply followed her schedule, but others found it suspicious.
A cruise ship wasn’t some famous landmark; you were just supposed to relax and enjoy yourself. Why did they need a guide herding them around so diligently? It was hard to tell if the NPC’s behavior was necessary for plot progression or just a way to interfere with the players.
But the memory of the guide intimidating the young couple with a smile yesterday was still fresh in their minds. No one wanted to be the one to challenge her.
They would have to wait and see.
We’ll see, Kong Wenbin thought, pushing up his glasses.
To their left, the group of four was deep in discussion.
To their right, the young couple picked at their food. Chi Mu was sobbing as she ate, and her boyfriend patted her back perfunctorily while straining to overhear any clues from the other players.
Yue Du looked away from them and back to Gao Yin. “The theater?” she confirmed.
“Yes. For a moment while we were searching for clues in the theater, my Spirituality was triggered.” Gao Yin paused before stating decisively, “There’s something wrong with that place.”
Yue Du unconsciously tapped her knuckles on the table. After a moment of thought, she said softly, “There’s a performance at the theater at six tonight. We can go then.”
“Six o’clock might not be free time.”
“It will be,” Yue Du said with a smile, picking up her cup of tea.
The tour continued that afternoon.
This leg of the tour was even less fruitful than the morning’s. For one, places like the rock-climbing wall and the spa were unlikely to be connected to evil gods. For another, the tour obviously wouldn’t include the senior crew’s work areas, even though everyone knew those places were more likely to hold clues.
After skipping the middle decks, which consisted mostly of passenger cabins, Yue Du ran into Einser Naiyin on the sixth deck.
When Yue Du saw her, the young artist of apparently distinguished birth was sitting alone at a small round table on an open-air deck. An easel stood before her, the ship’s railing behind her. She wore a vintage wide-brimmed hat tilted on her head and a little black dress, looking like a painting herself.
Seeing Yue Du, Einser looked up and smiled. “What a coincidence. We meet again.”
“Hello, Miss Einser.” Yue Du nodded at her, her gaze sweeping over the half-finished painting on the easel. To her surprise, Einser wasn’t painting the sunlit azure sea, but rather heavy black clouds, a storm, and giant waves. Gloomy blocks of color covered the canvas.
Half out of politeness and half in earnest, Yue Du complimented, “Your painting is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Einser said. “Your praise pleases me more than the painting itself.”
It was always hard to resist a beautiful woman, especially one who spoke with such sincere admiration. Yue Du cleared her throat and changed the subject.
“It seems Aiona isn’t around.”
“Probably in our room. She’s always running off somewhere. She’ll come back on her own.”
Einser’s casual attitude struck Yue Du as odd. “Is there no one with her?”
“Of course not,” the young painter said lightly, turning her head.
Yue Du took a deep breath. “It’s dangerous to leave a child alone when you’re traveling, especially one who likes to wander off.”
Einser smiled. “Alright, I’ll try to keep a better eye on her, since you mentioned it.”
What an irresponsible guardian, Yue Du thought.
Yue Du shook her head. Suddenly, she understood why little Aiona was so mischievous. Just look at her sister.
Yue Du exchanged a few more pleasantries with Einser before preparing to leave and search for clues. “In ten minutes, they’ll be serving a lovely afternoon tea here,” Einser said, trying to detain her. “Would you care to join me?”
“I’m sorry, I’m with a tour group and have to stick to the schedule,” Yue Du said with feigned regret. “Perhaps another time.”
Einser’s smile faded slightly. “Then it will have to be another time. I hope I can invite you to dinner next.”
Yue Du turned to leave, thinking that if she saw little Aiona, she would have to make sure the girl returned to her sister. The dangers a child faced on this ship were far greater than most people imagined.
Behind her, Einser’s smile vanished. She turned to look out at the sea, her face blank, and let out a soft sigh.
Five in the afternoon.
The guide stopped in front of a restaurant on the fourth floor. She informed the players that it was dinnertime and that they were to reassemble at six.
Just as the players were about to enter, Yue Du called out to the guide, who was about to go stand like a mannequin in a corner. “Excuse me, I have a question.”
The guide’s attitude was pleasant. “Please, ask away.”
“What is the itinerary for this evening?”
“Watching the sunset on the deck, followed by a visit to the casino on the third deck.”
“And what about tomorrow’s schedule?”
“Tomorrow’s itinerary is equally exciting. You have nothing to worry about.”
Yue Du put on a troubled expression. “To be honest, I have a bit of a headache. I was hoping to go back to my room and rest tonight. Is it alright if I don’t follow the schedule?”
The guide replied, “Those who don’t follow the schedule are not good tourists.”
Her voice rose sharply on the last three words, startling the young couple who hadn’t yet entered the restaurant.
Yue Du asked seriously, “Can’t you make an exception?”
The guide replied with a chilling smile.
After a long moment, Yue Du sighed softly. “Well, if there’s no other way, I suppose I’ll have to file a complaint.”
A complaint.
Faced with that word, the guide was momentarily speechless, perhaps frozen in shock. But as a stiffly smiling NPC, it was hard to tell.
Yue Du pressed on righteously. “Your travel agency’s cruise itinerary is so restrictive we don’t even have the freedom to stay in our own rooms. It’s completely ruined the mood of our vacation.”
So, I’m going to complain to the travel agency.
Gao Yin chimed in to support her. “We have to complain. This is a violation of consumer rights. It’s an adhesion contract.”
The two of them faced the guide’s large, vacant eyes, their palms sweating.
Three seconds later, the guide’s expression suddenly crumpled, her stiff, polite smile replaced by a stiff, sorrowful frown.
“Please don’t file a complaint!” the guide pleaded, her voice suddenly filled with anguish. “I’m just an employee! Please don’t complain!”
Yue Du discreetly let out a breath she’d been holding. “So, about the rest of the itinerary…?” she asked with a smile.
The guide paused for a full five seconds before saying, “We will assemble once every morning at eight. The rest of the time will be free.”
This NPC caved a little too quickly, Yue Du thought.
Yue Du watched the guide walk over to her corner to stand like a human vase, whimpering sounds escaping her lips even as her expression remained rigid. She actually felt a little sorry for the NPC.
After dinner, both groups of players coincidentally took the elevator to the same floor: the twelfth deck, where the theater was located.
The young couple didn’t follow. For one, they didn’t see any reason to go to the theater. For another, they seemed intent on following the guide’s original itinerary: watch the sunset, then go to the casino.
What’s the point of disobeying the guide? Besides, a place like the theater sounds dangerous. Only an idiot would rush over there.
That was the young couple’s line of thinking.
Yue Du arrived at the entrance to the theater.
A massive poster was plastered next to the doors. It depicted a black-tailed mermaid with thick, seaweed-like hair sitting on a reef, her head tilted back and red lips parted as if in song.
Around her, the ocean was calm, dotted with small whitecaps. But beneath the surface, the faint, twisted shapes of mangled limbs could be seen.
On the second night aboard the Pilgrim, the musical The Mermaid of Eisdorlin was about to begin.
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